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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725009">Locksmith</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertQuirkyUsername/pseuds/InsertQuirkyUsername'>InsertQuirkyUsername</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>@alpacinoimagines - The Fic Collection [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Heat (1995)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, brief mention of death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:16:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725009</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertQuirkyUsername/pseuds/InsertQuirkyUsername</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the heist, Neil returns home to discover that the woman next door is locked out. He decides to give her shelter in from the cold L.A night in his home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neil McCauley/Original Female Character (if you squint)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>@alpacinoimagines - The Fic Collection [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027978</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Locksmith</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The movie doesn't really specify season the events happen during but I made it winter because the inspiration for the story came to me in work while I had to hear 'Baby It's Cold Outside' for the millionth time despite it only being early November at the time of writing this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sophia shivered, it was too damn cold for this nonsense but she had no other option than to wait at her own front door as snow piled in. After a long shift, she had been looking forward to getting home and settling down in bed with a book but those plans had been dashed. <br/></span>
  <span> When the key snapped in the lock she figured it made sense, it had been a day of one thing after another. First an ambulance had gone missing - apparently this was somehow her fault, then two of her student nurses had called in sick - turning her ten hour shift into an eighteen hour shift. The final straw was towards the end of her shift - she was notified that the eldery homeless man that she had grown fond of and often saw in a bed on her ward, had been brought in DOA. <br/></span>
  <span> In eleven years working for the hospital she had never cried so hard as she did on hearing that. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So in summary, of course it would be she’d end up locked out and freezing. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had called her parents first, since they were the landlords and they had called a locksmith who had told them he could be there within the hour. It had been an hour and forty five minutes. <br/></span>
  <span> She was just finishing up a call to her parents to let them know that the locksmith </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t there, when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She turned around cautiously, hoping it was the locksmith.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Instead she was met with the face of the man who lived in the next house. She had seen him very occasionally but he was the sort of face she could remember. The first time she and her mother had seen him, she told her mother that she thought he was ‘kinda good looking’. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep, okay. Gotta go Mom.” She said, signalling to the neighbour that she’d be with him in a moment.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that the locksmith?” Her mother asked, “Tell him he had better expect a complaint to his~”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, mom, It’s Mr…” She blanked, realising that she didn’t know his name. “It’s the man from next door.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hung up before her mother could go off on a tangent about how handsome he was. She’d pay for that when she next spoke to her but it wasn’t important to her right now.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“McCauley.” He said, offering her his hand to shake, “My name’s Neil McCauley.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pleased to meet you Neil.” She said, shaking his hand and enjoying the warmth of it. “I’m Sophia Tillicoulty.” <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He observed her a moment, his gaze seemed to her like he was trying to work out a puzzle. <br/></span>
  <span> “You’ll catch your death out here, I doubt your locksmith is coming tonight. Why don’t you come and warm yourself in my home?”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sophia eyed him curiously as she weighed up her options. On the one hand, the idea of getting a heat in her bones was deliciously tempting and it certainly didn’t hurt that she would have the company of the handsome and elusive man next door. However, on the other hand, this was L.A. and Sophia had lived here too long not to know that this could be a dangerous decision. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you are worried about me harming you, your mother knows that I was the last person to talk to you so it wouldn’t be in my interest to do anything to you.” He said offhandedly before adding, “Not that I would harm you anyway.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sophia chuckled dryly, “Lead the way Mr McCauley.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neil had been on his balcony, stewing over Waingro getting away, when he had spotted someone pacing up and down on the front porch of the neighbours house. It was dark, he couldn’t tell if it was the woman who lived there or not. Whoever it was, they had a phone up to their ear. Waingro went to the back of his mind, to the forefront came the worry that the young woman would come home to someone with ill-intent on her porch.<br/></span>
  <span> He might not be a spring chicken anymore, but he trusted his reflexes to be better than most people his age and even most people younger than him. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tucked his gun into the waistband of his pants and hid it under his jacket. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He approached the porch silently, listening for clues as to who this person was. He was relieved when he heard a woman’s voice. That was a good start. His worry was completely erased when he overheard the feminine voice talk to her mother. So it was the young woman who lived there. Good. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had every intention of sliding back into the shadows and returning home, until he overheard a part of the conversation.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Still no sign, at this rate I think I'd be better off kicking in my own damn door."<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No mom, of course I'm not actually going to."<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If anyone were to ask him later on, if he had consciously decided to get her attention, then he would have honestly told them that he didn't know for sure. <br/></span>
  <span> Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and ended up leading her to his own home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sophia looked around the bright and spacious place that McCauley called home. Spacious was the right word for it, if only because there was so little furniture. There were two fancy and uncomfortable looking armchairs, a coffee table that was too far away from the armchairs to be of any use, a fireplace that looked designer and an open plan, fitted kitchen. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll put the fire on and see if I can find an old hot water bottle or something.” Neil said, “You want anything to drink?”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hot chocolate, if you have it?” Sophia asked as she tried to suppress a shiver.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>McCauley rifled through his cupboards as if he didn’t know what was in them. “Sorry.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about tea then?” Sophia tried.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can make that.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mind if I pull this chair closer to the fireplace?” She asked.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go ahead.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sophia put her hands up to the fire and rejoiced in the feeling of heat. She was beginning to regain feeling in her fingers and toes. She could feel the pins and needles as blood began returning to her extremities.  That was when McCauley handed her a hot water bottle, which she immediately hugged to her chest, then he draped a blanket over her. He disappeared from her sight for a moment but when he came back, he was carrying two mugs of tea.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Sophia said, and for a long time she just held the warm mug. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feeling any better?”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Much better already.” She smiled.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.” Neil replied, returning a tight smile of his own. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sophia considered that tight smile, it was the sort of smile someone who is not used to smiling might give. She couldn't help but to wonder how a person would not be used to smiling. <br/></span>
  <span> Sophia opened her mouth to make polite conversation but a yawn that she didn’t have time to suppress escaped instead.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day. I’ve probably been awake for more than twenty four hours now.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should get some rest, take my bed.” Neil said, taking the empty mug from her and standing. “It’s just up the hall, the second door on the left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Oh no! I couldn’t take your bed, I can sleep here.” She told him.<br/><br/></span>
  <span>“No, these chairs are hardly even comfortable to sit in, nevermind trying to sleep on one.” He told her, taking a tone that brokered no argument. “Besides, I don’t sleep much.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sophia eyed him curiously, “No I should stay awake and wait for the locksmith.” <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your locksmith won’t come now until the morning, trust me.” He said. “If it’s your safety you are concerned about, the bedroom door locks from the inside.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sophia didn’t know if it was exhaustion or just an unwillingness to argue with Neil but she found herself nodding and stood up to head towards the bedroom. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is an en-suite too, if you want to wash up before you sleep.” Neil said, helping her to stand and walking her towards the bedroom door. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t think I could keep my eyes open long enough for that.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neil leaned against the doorframe as Sophia stepped inside.<br/></span>
  <span> “Thank you again, Mr Mcaul~ Neil. Thank you.”<br/><br/></span>
  <span>She closed the door and listened as he walked back towards the living room. She glanced around the bedroom. Spotting a desk and chair, she decided to undress and hang her clothes over the chair. Then, suddenly self-conscious of her nakedness, she made the decision to borrow one of Neil’s shirts to wear to bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neil returned to his living room and picked up his cell. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm?” Came the answer on the other end of the line.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nine o’clock sharp, I want you at my place. Bring your tools.” He told Chris and then he hung up.</span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t escape Neil’s notice that night that he did not hear the bedroom door lock. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally posted on my side blog @alpacinoimagines</p></blockquote></div></div>
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